stormy pride
by brainy
Summary: What if...after Darcy's Hunsford proposal Darcy and Elizabeth get caught in a storm, unable to part they are forced to confront their misunderstanding's and prejudices. Cannon couple's, P&P variation.
1. Chapter 1

**This is a classic P&P story, everything has been cannon up until Darcy's Hunsford proposal and early morning letter exchange when a sudden storm changes the entire story...this is a what if P&P. I'm going to try to write the characters as close to the originals as I can, but I'm not Jane Austin and I don't own the character's I'd appreciate your feedback on the story so please review if you can. **

Elizabeth sat on the hard earth, staring at the letter in her lap. Everything she had ever thought or known had crumbled around her. How had she missed Darcy's interest in her? Charlotte had mentioned the possibility on more than one occasion. Even Jane had commented on how often his gaze seemed to rest upon her and yet Elizabeth herself had never considered the possibility. She, who had always prided herself on her ability to read and study people... To find herself severely lacking in perception was a knock to her confidence.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

She laughed aloud at her own naivety but it was a hollow, humourless sound. To think she had convinced herself that he only looked upon her to criticize! Elizabeth closed her eyes, remembering the way his dark penetrating gaze frequently lingered on her face and form. A shiver ran through her body and a audible gasp sprang from her lips at the memory. Her eyes sprang open and she shook her head vigorously, desperately trying to dispel the thought. But, try as she might, she could not shake the mental image of Mr. Darcy's intent gaze.

Unbidden, another image came to mind: Jane's heart broken face. _He_ had done that to her, Elizabeth's favourite sister – who she loved more than her own self. Whatever good there was in him, his pride had brought about the misery of the sweetest creature she had ever known. Elizabeth might have been mistaken about many things: Wickham, her own abilities, Darcy's motive's - but he had made just as many and more long lasting errors.

She would not allow Darcy's words of love to sway her - or her own traitorous mind to collude in this gambit. She would think of him no more.

Her decision was made. She stood up and began walking back towards the Parsonage. As always, she began to feel better the instant her body was in motion; activity cleared her mind and invigorated her heart.

No sooner had she begun to walk than the heavens opened and rain began to fall at an alarming rate. It took only a few second of rain to soak through her thin summer Spencer.

Elizabeth looked around desperately for a shelter to hide until the rain abated, but although she was reasonably acquainted with the area through her rambles, she could not think of anywhere suitable to go.

Elizabeth stumbled back into the woods, hoping to find a large tree to take refuge under. She walked a short way before settling under a large oak tree, pressing her back tightly to the trunk in an effort to dodge the large droplets of rain that continued to fall on her bonnet with loud thuds.

She soon realised that the trees canopy didn't provide sufficient coverage and began to move further into the woods in search of better shelter. Her tread faltered as she tried to move quickly in order to escape the downpour; the ground had become muddy and slick with water and leaves.

The ground slid under her boot, making her ankle turn in an unnatural and painful way. An unladylike howl escaped her mouth as her body fell with a crash onto the wet forest floor. Panic overtook her as she tried unsuccessfully to stand. The pain was nearly unbearable. Elizabeth lay back in the mud, letting the large rain droplets fall on her bare face.

Eyes squeezed tight, she tried to regain her composure. Having always been the most hardy and robust of her sisters, she was determined to overcome the pain and find help.

"Elizabeth?_" _A voice called.

She glanced around but could not detect where the voice had originated from. Bracing her weight on her arms to prop herself up, and peering intently through the dense foliage, she finally detected a dark figure amongst the trees.

The figure moved swiftly towards her. Elizabeth could soon make out the outline of a tall man with broad shoulders. She hoped and prayed that it was not the very gentleman whose letter had distracted her so catastrophically that she missed the change in weather, and neglected to get indoors before the storm began.

Her hopes were dashed as Mr. Darcy's statuesque form stepped into the clearing. His long stride ate up the ground between them and, in a few short steps, he was looming over her. A look of indecision marred his otherwise handsome features.

_"Eliza….." _he stopped himself, swallowing his words. _"Miss Bennet,_"he bowed formally.

Elizabeth bit back a laugh at the image he presented. Although his coat had sheltered him rather more effectively than hers had, divots of water still poured over his shoulders. His thick, brown, curly hair was almost black with moisture and was plastered to his head. Mud caked his usually crisp linen breeches almost to the knees.

_"Have you finished inspecting my apparel, Miss Bennet?"_ his sardonic tone alerted her to the fact that she had been silently appraising him for some time. Her eyes flickered back to his face. His dark eyes were clouded with annoyance.

_"Because - forgive me for saying so, Miss Bennet - for I know how much you believe in always being gentlemanly, but your own apparel is not above reproach" _his rich baritone voice was seeped in bitterness.

Glancing down at her reclined form, she saw that her pale lemon dress was now smeared with liberal amounts of mud and clung shockingly to her body. Her Spencer was crumpled beneath her back in a hard lump and her bonnet hung limply around her eyes.

She felt a blush spread across her face. To be seen by _anyone _in this state would have been a disgrace but to have Mr. Darcy of all people find her in such a compromising and embarrassing a position was almost too much to bear.

"_Forgive me, Miss Bennet. That was uncalled for,"_ he said, his voice sounding both contrite and concerned. _"We should not be talking of clothes or manners when you are clearly in need of aid."_

Mr. Darcy knelt at her side, his knee sinking quickly into the wet earth. His cold hand wrapped around her ankle, lifting it gently from where it lay in a pool of water.

_"Forgive me for the liberty."_ Darcy's voice was hoarse as his hands reached up her calf, his fingers skimming along her leg, up under her knee to the top of her stocking.

A bolt of electricity through her body at his touch and she found her breath came out in sharp short gasps. As his fingers found her bare skin, a sigh escaped his lips. He touched her soft inner thigh and his eyes flickered momentarily to her face. Elizabeth knew not what she looked like, but she imagined that her expression was not that dissimilar to his: Confusion, anger, and lust waging a war for dominance.

_"I - "_ Darcy cleared his throat loudly. _"I will need to ascertain the level of injury before I attempt to move you from your current location."_Elizabeth was surprised; she had never heard his speak so hesitantly before.

His eyes darted back to her face.

_"Is this acceptable, Miss Bennet?"_he asked. His hand was still on her thigh, his fingers inching below the seams of her stockings, his thumb rubbing small circles into her sensitive skin.

The sensation was beyond anything she had ever felt; her whole body seemed to buzz with the feeling of his skin against hers. She felt herself nod, not knowing or caring to what she agreed, so long as he did not stop touching her.

At her nod his fingers dipped further below the stocking seam. Ever so slowly, Darcy began to roll the stocking down her leg, keeping his eyes fixed on Elizabeth's face as he did so. His was now expressionless - apart from a slight frown across his forehead.

Elizabeth knew her blush must be deep indeed, for despite the cold rain, her face burned with heat.

Darcy finally dragged his eyes away from her face. Cradling her foot in one hand, he began to carefully undo her boot laces with the other.

_"I am going to have to remove the shoe"_ he warned as worked._ "I am afraid that it is going to hurt, Eliz- Miss Bennet. But it must be done. Are you ready my lo-"_ he stopped so abruptly that it sounded like he choked on the word. The tender look on his face vanished in a heartbeat. _"Miss Bennet?"_

_"Yes, Mr Darcy. As you say, it must be done."_ She took a deep breath and nodded. _"Please, go ahead and remove it. I will try my best not to move."_

As Darcy began to ease the boot from her foot, the pain was so intense that she had to fight the urge to pull her foot from his grip. Elizabeth instantly regretted giving him permission to remove the boot.

Feeling her leg jerk, Darcy immediately ceased his actions.

_"Tell me when you are ready to proceed,"_he said compassionately, allowing her time to compose herself.

_"I'm ready. Honestly, it was only a momentary weakness,"_she assured him through gritted teeth.

_"Not at all, Miss Bennet. If - as I suspect - you have sprained your ankle, I am impressed that you have not fainted or screamed._" He gave her a comforting smile. _"When I fell from my horse as young boy, spraining my own ankle in the process, I could not help but utter a few choice words."_

Elizabeth couldn't help but return his smile. It was astonishing, the way his smile lit up his face and made his handsome features look younger. Like this, he was closer to the young boy he mentioned than the dour, silent man she was accustomed to.

_"There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"_he asked. It was only then that she noticed he had somehow managed to remove her boot completely, and was gently pulling the stocking off.

He cradled her foot in his hands, softly running his fingers across the swollen, rapidly bruising skin of her ankle. She winced at the pain that even his tender touch created.

_"I think it is sprained but, luckily, not broken,"_he pronounced.

_"So, now all we have to do is get you somewhere out of this rain until I am able to procure a doctor for you."_

_"That may prove most difficult, Sir,_" Elizabeth admitted. She hated to divulge weakness to _anyone _but especially to Mr. Darcy. _"I am afraid that I am unable to stand."_

His dark eyes bored into hers.

_"I'm aware of that, Miss Bennett."_ He paused as if choosing his words carefully. _"That is why I intend to carry you._"

She shook her head. Carry her? She was certain neither her dignity nor her fragile nerves could withstand such a thing.

_"Mr Darcy! Surely you cannot be serious!"_she exclaimed. _"I am already in a compromising position. To allow you to lift me and carry me in your arms would undoubtedly ruin my reputation."_

_"You must see that there is no other choice?"_he asked. His voice once again held its usual authoritative edge._"You cannot remain here, in an ever increasing puddle on the ground, and you cannot walk, therefore I must carry you."_

Elizabeth felt her temper rise at his tone. How dare he speak to her as if she were a child!

_"Are you not able to leave me here to go and fetch help?"_she replied, her arched manner alerting him instantly to her ire.

His mouth twitched._"Are you really asking me, Miss Bennet, to abandon a lone, injured female in the rain - in the centre of a forest_ _- to retrieve help from either the Parsonage or Rosings both of which are at least a half hour walk from here?"_

_"Mr Darcy. I am not afraid of the dark or the damp therefore neither the rain nor the forest is cause for you to stay."_ Elizabeth needed desperately to be away from his presence, his dark looks and the touch had awakened such a strange chain reaction within her.

_"You have already injured your foot, Miss Bennet. If you continue to lay on the wet ground for much longer you will most certainly catch a chill - if not something worse. So the damp, as you put it, may not be something you fear but most definitely be something you should avoid."_ He smiled as his cold logic chipped away at her flimsy argument.

_"And the dark, as you so elegantly put it-"_ He raised an eye brow and glanced around the dense, secluded wooded area. _"Well, as I said, you are already injured and unable to move. I shudder to think what would have happened if anyone besides myself had come across you."_ His almost playful tone turned serious and he once again glance around him.

Elizabeth could not deny the logic behind his argument. But -"_Is there no place closer than Rosings or the Parsonage?"_ she asked. _"No servants' cottage where you might find aid?"_

_"I must remind you that this is not my home, Miss Bennet,"_ he replied dryly. _"My apologies but I am unaware of where alternative help may be found. However if you could guide me I am, as ever, your servant." _He bowed his head mockingly.

Mr. Darcy looked at her expectantly. She longed to be able to retort affirmatively and wipe the arrogant look from his face as she had done on so many occasions in the past.

_"So... As I was saying, Miss Bennet,"_he continued. _"I will carry you to a small shelter I am aware of near by. It was actually where I was heading to wait out the rain myself when I heard your voice."_

_"So there is another residence near by?"_ _Elizabeth _asked, shocked that he had contradicted himself.

_"It is but a small hut only,"_he replied obviously aware of her scepticism, _"No one resides there. It is only used to store tools for the forester."_

_"Is there no-"_her sentence was cut short as Mr Darcy moved suddenly. His arm snaked around her waist and under her knees. Elizabeth found herself rather abruptly cradled firmly against his broad chest. He stood holding her close as if she weighed nothing at all.

_"I believe we have debated long enough, Miss Bennet."_ He looked down at her as he spoke, his warm breath washing over her face. _"As much as I normally enjoy the challenge, I think we should delay the pleasure until we are both somewhere indoors and dry."_

With these words Mr. Darcy strode forward into the dense forest from which he had emerged.


	2. Chapter 2

**Can I just say thanks to all of you who have reviewed, read and liked this. I'm really grateful to everyone especially those who have taken their time to leave reviews. **

**So here is chapter two hope you like it and send me some feedback...thanks.**

**Stormy Pride– Chapter Two**

Elizabeth knew she was pouting as Mr. Darcy continued to stride forward, still holding her in his strong arms. He had swept her off the ground and refused to release her or be swayed by logic - no matter which argument she presented. He truly was insufferably arrogant.

"Mr Darcy." Her tone was biting as she allowed her anger free reign. "Do you know what it would look like if we are seen? Holding me so close in your arms, we would look like lovers meeting for a clandestine tryst!" Elizabeth could not help but blush as she spoke.

Once again, Darcy ignored her. He continued to walk forward, taking her deeper still into the forest.

"This will leave my reputation in tatters!" She bit back the angry tears that threatened to spill. Curse Fitzwilliam Darcy and his stubborn nature! She stared off into the dense forest and tried not to sound petulant when she said, "Even the merest hint that something of this nature had occurred would be enough to have my father forcing us down the aisle to the alter and_ that_, sir, is something neither of us would wish for!"

Mr. Darcy stopped suddenly. He looked down at Elizabeth, studying her face for several long heartbeats before resuming his hurried strides.

Elizabeth was stunned into silence. The expression on his face just then… It had been… No, she must have misinterpreted the look he gave her. It could not have been _hope _ that she saw… Could it?

She could scarcely believe it was less than twenty four hours since that heated scene at the Parsonage. She had rejected his proposal with such vengeful words that she could not have conceivably imagined a time when he would wish to be in her company once more. Yet here she was, being carried - bridal style - in his arms. Mr. Darcy had not only voluntarily sought her company, but had in fact thrust his upon her in such a way as to brook no refusals to the contrary.

He was impossible to sway; she could present no argument that he would respond to. His arrogance was so complete, his belief in his own superiority so strong, that Elizabeth's cool, logical reason stood no chance.

"Here we are." Darcy finally spoke, nodding his head in the direction of a small cottage nestled among the trees.

Elizabeth looked up as he spoke. She could not help but notice a light dusting of stubble over Darcy's square jaw. She had not noticed this previously – but she _was_ considerably closer to him than she had been. Closer, in face, than she had _ever_ been to _any_ man, her own dear father excluded. That fact was not lost on Miss Bennet as she fought the urge to reach up and run her fingers along that dark hair. She wondered absently if it would be coarse or smooth under her fingertips.

Had Mr. Darcy left Rosings so early that his manservant had been unable to perform his usual duties? He _was_ looking decidedly less immaculate than usual…But, of course, he had been engaged in carrying a fully grown woman through the woods. A gentleman could be excused for looking slightly ruffled in such an instance.

Elizabeth only became aware that she was staring when the cottage's heavy, wooden door slammed shut with a bang, making her start. Looking around, she was surprised to find that it was nothing like the forester's hut she had been expecting. An empty fireplace was the dominant feature of the room they stood in. An odd assortment of chairs sat around it and there were several tables of varying heights scattered about the room, most of them piled high with books.

"I thought you said no one lived here?" Elizabeth's voice was full of doubt.

Darcy moved further into the room without releasing his hold on her.

"It is uninhabited" he replied vaguely.

It did not _look _uninhabited, Elizabeth thought. She thought it looked cosy and rather inviting, in fact.

Walking over to the fireplace, Darcy hooked one mud covered boot under an upholstered armchair and tugged it forward. He eased Elizabeth gently onto the cushioned seat.

"This house was built by my late uncle, Sir Lewis de Bourgh," Darcy explained as he

dragged an Ottoman across the floor. Gently lifting her injured foot, he gingerly placed it upon the stool.

"He used this as a hide away from his _dearest_ wife, Lady Catherine." He smiled at her sardonically and began to unlace her other boot. "He would come here to sit and read and smoke his pipe, without incurring the constant ire of her Ladyship."

Elizabeth chuckled at the picture he had created. She had never heard him speak in such a forthright way before; it pleased her to hear what she had always suspected: Mr. Darcy did not kowtow to Lady Catherine's overbearing personality.

"And her Ladyship did not mind?" her tone was almost saucy. Darcy responded to her teasing tone with a grin.

"Lady Catherine is so busy overseeing every minute detail of those around her that she frequently overlooks many of the larger ones. Sir Lewis proclaimed himself to be an avid fisherman," Darcy told her. "I do not believe my uncle ever once lifted a fishing rod in his life. He did, however, spend many a happy hour here. It would appear that the lack of either pond or lake in Hunsford has never crossed Lady Catherine's mind."

They shared a laugh at that great lady's expense. Elizabeth gloried in the rare sound of Darcy's laugh. It was a deep, baritone sound and made odd things happen in the pit of her stomach.

"And how is it, sir," Elizabeth asked, still smiling. "That you have come to know of this safe haven?"

Darcy rose from his position at her feet, removing his great overcoat which deposited a sizeable deluge of water onto the floor. He went to hang it upon a battered coat rack by the door. As he walked, he shook his head, sending a spray of water in every direction.

"If you hand me your Spencer, Miss Bennet, I will hang it up to dry." Darcy stopped in front of her. He waited, his hand outstretched.

As she struggled out of the soaked garment, a shiver ran through her body. Elizabeth could not help but notice that her pale yellow dress was nearly transparent. Feeling self-conscious, she folded her arms across her chest.

Darcy must have noticed her discomfort because he strode to a closet at the far side of the room where he unfurled a large blanket.

"Please forgive me, Miss Bennet." Embarrassment laced his voice as he passed her the blanket. Turning his back on her, he said, "You must be chilled. I should not be rambling on about family history whilst you are suffering."

"I have already told you, Mr Darcy," Elizabeth answered at once. "A little rain is not going to harm me. And the 'family history' as you call it is distracting me greatly from the pain in my ankle so please, continue your story."

Elizabeth pulled the blanket up under her chin in an attempt to preserve what little modesty she had left.

"As you wish." Darcy offered her a small, forced smile. "But I must insist upon building a fire as I talk, for no matter how much you protest, a little rain can do a great deal of harm." His voice was both authoritative and playful at the same time. Elizabeth was not sure what to make of this enigma of a man. Before today, she could have attributed many qualities to him: pride, arrogance, conceit and - if she were forced to admit it - intelligent, but playful and honest? They were _not_ words that would have sprung to mind. Now, however, she really was at a loss.

Darcy removed his jacket, remaining in his coat sleeves. His white shirt remained relatively dry; his overcoat had afforded him much more protection from the rain than her thin Spencer had.

He gathered an armful of logs and placed them, one by one, into the fire grate. Watching him work, Elizabeth was struck by the intimacy of the situation. A blush washed over her cheeks as an unwelcome through came to mind. If she had accepted Mr. Darcy's proposal, they would be in much, much more intimate situations…

Elizabeth found it near impossible to tear her eyes away. The only man she had ever encountered in his shirtsleeves was her father and Mr Darcy's strong, athletic physique was nothing like that of her elderly father. She watched, mesmerised by the play of muscles under the shirt that stretched tightly over his shoulders as he bent over the grate. Strange that he had not yet lit the fire and already Elizabeth felt her temperature rising…

"Where were we?" he asked, his voice breaking through her haze. "Well, as you can imagine, having had the pleasure of Lady Catherine's presence yourself, my late uncle was not the only one who was in need of a reprieve. My own father would occasionally join him on his "fishing" trips during our family visits to Rosings. As a boy, I was completely unaware that this was nothing more than a ruse and therefore begged to be allowed to join them one day. I was but a boy of five-years-old and was extremely upset when my father explained that this trip was not appropriate for a young lad."

He looked away from his increasingly unsuccessful attempts to kindle the fire and shook his head ruefully. "Lady Catherine, overhearing this, ordered my uncle to allow me to join them. I therefore spent the whole day long being very bored. I sat in the corner as my father and uncle read their books and barely spoke at all. I was sworn to secrecy of course, but did not really understand at the time why. When I took over the duties of overseeing Lady Catherine's estate, after both my uncle and father had passed away, I was finally able to appreciate this quiet little corner of Rosings."

"Are you fishing as we speak?" Elizabeth did not attempt to hide the mirth in her voice.

"Not this morning." Darcy's voice instantly lost its playfulness and was replaced with his usual dry tone. "This morning I am recovering from a sudden illness I was struck with yesterday which sadly prevented my ability to join my aunt for dinner - much to her annoyance and displeasure."

Elizabeth did not have to ask what 'illness' he spoke of.

At long last, a flame burst into life and grew. The fire crackled as it consumed the dry logs.

When Darcy finally turned back to her, his face was far less open and merry. Elizabeth felt a moment of guilt at the rapid change in his demeanour. It was her fault; the memory of her rejection had chased away the jovial mood they were sharing.

"I have, however, gone "fishing" many times on my visits to Rosings over the years and, although I have failed to catch even a single fish, I have nevertheless found the experience very rewarding." Elizabeth could see the effort Mr Darcy was putting forward to regain the comfortable mood she had shattered.

Elizabeth managed a weak smile, but could do no more. Inside she was in turmoil.

She realised that she had never considered his feelings during - or any time after – her very vehement rejection of Mr. Darcy's proposal. She was only just beginning to realise how cruel she had been. Only now did she take the opportunity to dwell upon the depth of the emotion it must have taken to lead a man such as himself to ask a woman far beneath him in both wealth and social stature to be his wife. At that moment Elizabeth hated herself.

When Darcy took the seat opposite her, he was gazing intently into her face.

"Are you still cold, Miss Bennet?" There was real concern in Darcy's voice.

"No, Mr Darcy, thank you. The fire has warmed me considerably."

Darcy did not reply but he continued to gaze upon her such intensity that Elizabeth began to feel uncomfortable under his scrutiny. The only sounds to be heard were the hammering of the rain against the window pane and the crackling of the fire. Elizabeth and Darcy continued to sit in silence, the companionable mood having washed away with the rain.

Suddenly springing to his feet, Darcy walked to the window, turning his back on Elizabeth.

"Miss Bennet," Darcy began in a faltering voice. "I feel it necessary - as a matter of utmost importance - to mention a delicate subject to you." He cleared his throat before continuing.

His gaze was earnest yet unsure when he turned to face her once more. "I am uncertain of how to broach the subject, but I feel that, if I do not, your health will certainly suffer. Despite your protests to the contrary, the rain has permeated your apparel to such an extent that sitting by fire will not be sufficient to dry them. In short, Miss Bennet, I am convinced that your health will be at risk if you do not remove them."

Darcy spoke these words quickly, the embarrassment of them causing a red flush to stain his cheeks.

Elizabeth could not have imagined a situation in which the proud Mr Darcy would feel uncomfortable, let alone blush. Were it not for the blush spreading across her own cheeks, she might have relished the sight.

"I apologise for my directness, Miss Bennet but I have been contemplating upon the matter for several minuets and the whiteness of your complexion has convinced me of the need to voice my concerns."

Elizabeth sat in stunned silence, unable to articulate a reply.

"There are several more blankets in which you might use to cover yourself," Darcy continued. "While your clothing dries in front of the fire."

Elizabeth was on the verge of a scathing reply but was unable to form the words as an untimely bout of sneezing overcame her.

The blanket fell from around her shoulders as the sneezes jerked her body. A cry escaped her lips as her injured foot fell from its perch when a particularly violent sneeze overcame her. The dull ache in her foot rebounded tenfold.

Darcy came to her rescue. He gently lifted her foot from the floor, gently lifting it back onto the ottoman.

"Please, Miss Bennet," he implored. "You must remove those wet things before you catch a fever."

She contemplated her options. She did not want to remove any articles of clothing in front of _any_ man, much less Mr Darcy. However, as the fire began to warm her chilled body, the damp cloth had begun to feel increasingly uncomfortable against her skin. A shiver ran down her spine but whether it was form the cold or at the prospect of undressing before Mr. Darcy, she did not know.

Elizabeth could see the logic in his request but could not bring herself to say the words aloud. She nodded her accession, earning a relived smile from Darcy before he headed back to the cupboard to retrieve more blankets.


	3. Chapter 3

**I love, love, love to read your reviews so thanks for everyone who took their time to leave feedback and to everyone who's reading this and added to alerts.**

**OK big, big thanks to wand - ****witchybelle4u2** **for reading/editing/mopping up my mess of writing.**

**And if you like P&P fanfic with a twist her story ****Mr Darcy, Vampire**** is a good read so give it a try.**

**Hope you enjoy and please review if you do. Rhi. **

**Stormy Pride:**

Chapter Three:

Elizabeth clutched the threadbare blanket to her chest. She could scarcely believe that she was contemplating removing her clothing in the presence of _any_ gentleman - but most _especially_ Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy.

He stood now with his back to Elizabeth, peering out the window as rain thrashed against the glass. This image of Darcy was a familiar one to her; she had observed him thus on many occasions in Hertfordshire, remote and prideful as he stood staring in rapt absorption into apparent nothingness. This reminder did little to encourage Elizabeth to bare herself to the man.

Lost in thought, Elizabeth picked idly at a loose thread as she considered Darcy. She did not doubt his honour. Despite all the reproofs she had hurled at him, she thought him neither a cad nor a rake. It was herself she doubted.

Darcy's gentle, hesitant touch had awakened feelings inside her unlike anything she had ever known. Never before had she believed that any man could affect her in such a way. Her body still hummed from the shadow of his touch and she found herself longing for more. Elizabeth could not help the small sigh of pleasure that escaped her at the thought of Darcy touching her again.

The man in question shifted slightly at the sound but he did not turn.

"Are you well, Miss Bennet?" he asked in a strained voice, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply but found herself unequal to the the task for several moments.

"Yes, Mr Darcy," she finally managed – though she doubted very much that she was.

A tense, charged silence filled the space between them. Finally, a clap of thunder broke the silence. Second later, the room was filled with light as lightening flashed across the dark sky.

"The storm appears to be getting worse," Darcy commented, still staring out the window.

Elizabeth desperately tried to think of a reply but failed. She found longing for the easy tone and conversation they had enjoyed earlier but the thick, uncomfortable atmosphere that had descended upon them weighed heavily on her mind, and turned her tongue to lead.

Since she could think of no reply, she chose instead to focus on the task at hand. Steeling her nerve, Elizabeth began to remove her clothing – or rather, she _attempted_ to remove her clothing. Try as she might, she could not reach the fastenings holding her dress in place.

Her arm twisted in unnatural formations as she desperately attempted to find a way to reach the fastening on her dress, but she discovered to her horror that despite her efforts she was unable to reach them.

Elizabeth felt her face flame at the realisation that she could not undress herself – and the only person present to offer her assistance was Mr. Darcy. Mortification paralysed Elizabeth as she sat, silent, listening to the pounding of the rain upon the roof as she weighed her options.

Darcy seemed to sense her struggle. "Miss Bennet?" he said without turning, "Little though I know of women's apparel, it occurs to me that removing it might prove rather difficult for you without the assistance of a maid."

"I must confess, Mr Darcy, the task _is_ indeed taxing." Her blush deepened as she spoke.

"Might _I_ be of assistance?"

The question hung unanswered. Only Darcy's heavy breathing gave away the anticipation he felt.

"I did not mean to offend you, Miss Bennet," he said after a long moment.

"I am not offended, Mr Darcy" Elizabeth replied honestly. "Merely unable to articulate a response."

Darcy let out a bark of laughter. She was left to wonder _what_ exactly he found so humorous.

"We do indeed find ourselves in a rather unusual circumstance, don't we?"

"This morning I awoke," he continued before she could reply, "Convinced that I would lay eyes upon you but once more - one brief glimpse as I handed you my letter. Then I would never again be forced to endure your presence. Yet here I am, barely six hours later, and my life is irrecoverably entwined with yours once more."

Elizabeth bristled at his words. How did he manage to turn the simplest of statements into an insult? It was an exceptional skill, unique to Mr. Darcy.

"I apologise that my presence so offends you," she replied tartly. "However, if you recall, it was not by _my_ insistence but your own that we find ourselves 'entwined' as you so elegantly put it."

He turned quickly and stalked across the floor towards her, the strain of withheld emotion written across his every feature.

"I pray you pay me no heed" he said in a rush. "My words were rashly spoken and were not intended to give insult."

"How were they intended then?" she raised a quizzical eyebrow at him. "I fail to see how to take you seeing my presence as insufferable in any other light."

"I don't recall using the word 'insufferable,'" he said with a wry grin.

"You quibble over words," Elizabeth countered. "It does not change the meaning behind them."

"I disagree." He pulled a stool close to her chair and sat down so he could look into her eyes. "One word can change the meaning or intent of a sentence entirely. I did not say I found your presence insufferable, irksome, or any other derogatory adjective. I said I found your presence difficult to endure."

"Does that not amount to the same thing?"

"No, indeed it does not." Darcy reached out and took her hand in his. Elizabeth tired to recoil from his touch but he held firm. She opened her mouth to order him to release her but the look on his face made her breath catch in her throat.

The expression Darcy wore was open, honest, and more than a little vulnerable. 'Why... He's not really that much older than I,' Elizabeth realised for the first time. It was only the sour expression he so frequently wore that made him appear older. She wasn't sure how to deal with this new Darcy so she dropped her eyes to their linked fingers and said nothing.

"It is not a punishment for a man to be in you presence, Elizabeth - any man, that is, expect one." He stopped drew a deep, ragged breath. "This one, the one who loves you passionately and irrecoverably, even with no hope of reciprocation or salvation. To this poor man your presence, your sweet smiles, and your wit are like a dagger in the heart because he knows you can never be his."

"It is not your company that is insufferable," he continued, "But my own inability to be anywhere near you without wanting to claim you as my own. That, Miss Bennet," he said, standing abruptly, "Is why I intended that I would never lay eyes on you again. And why I had every intention of running away to lick my wounds like a wounded dog in the hopes of one day forgetting you." He bowed low, brushing his lips ever so gently across her knuckles before turning his back on her once more.

Elizabeth's mind screamed at her to respond but her tongue appeared unable to comply. His words - spoken so sincerely - seemed to crack a hole wide open in her chest and she feared her rapidly beating heart would escape from it at any moment.

"Had?" Elizabeth spoke finally, scarcely knowing where the question came from. Her voice sounded weak, even to her own ears. "Does that mean, sir, that your intentions have altered?"

He did not answer immediately. Elizabeth felt her frustration grow as she once again found herself starting at Darcy's back in a silence so charged with tension she could almost taste it.

She longed to see his face. Which Mr. Darcy now stood before her? Was it the cold, mocking Mr. Darcy that once shamed her publicly by refusing to dance with her? Or was it the Mr. Darcy whose passionate words had penetrated her heart without warning?

Her heart skipped a beat when he finally turned. Was it the answer she had hoped for? She could not say; her thoughts and emotions were in such a state of turmoil that she hardly knew herself.

"Yes, my dear Miss Bennet," he said softly. "My intentions – so far as my leaving goes – have altered."

He held her gaze. "And _you_, Miss Bennet?"

"Me?" Elizabeth wondered where all the air in the room had gone; she was suddenly unable to draw enough air into her lungs.

"Have _your_ intentions altered?"

A clap of thunder broke the tension and spared Elizabeth from having to articulate an answer. Their attention was drawn to the window.

"It would appear that we will be here for some time," Darcy said. "You will be far more comfortable out of those wet things. Allow me?"

Elizabeth stared at the hand he offered. She felt as though she were hanging over a great precipice. One step further could send her tumbling, head over heels, to a place from which there was no return.

"Elizabeth?"

She met his gaze with some reluctance. The undisguised desire she saw there sent her pulse racing. Was she ready to take that step?

"Yes."

She took the hand he offered and allowed Darcy to pull her to her feet. They were so close that her skirts brushed his legs as she turned. Darcy's fingers skimmed the sensitive skin at her nape as he brushed aside a damp tendril of hair. A fine tremor ran through Elizabeth at the brief touch.

"I cannot just leave," Darcy said as his fingers reached the first clasp holding her dress together. He spoke softly in her ear, his voice thick with barely restrained emotion.

"I _will_ not leave, will not simply give up," he told Elizabeth. "Not until you tell me that there is no hope."

He flipped the clasp open and moved down to the next. "Not unless you can tell me, honestly, that being... e_ntwined_... with me does not appeal to you."

Flick. The next clasp was released. And the next. Darcy's fingers trailed down her back; she felt his heat through the thin chemise she wore.

"Until you tell me that I do not challenge and excite you like no other man can, I will not relinquish my suit."

The last clasp was freed. Darcy placed his hands on her shoulders. His thumbs slid under the fabric of her dress, holding it in place. "Can you? Can you tell me that, Elizabeth?"

Her breath came out as a breathless whisper. "No. I cannot tell you that."

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	4. Chapter 4

**Hi guy's i'm back with the new update. So sorry about the wait...i totally love your reviews so thanks so much to all of you. Big happy dance when they come through. Hope you guy's like this and review if you can...and thanks wand for cleaning up my spelling, grammar and every other mess I seem to get up to whilst writing.**

**Stormy pride**

**Chapter Four:**

Darcy's breath caught in his throat at her words, and his grip tightened almost painfully on her shoulder.

"Elizabeth," he sighed. Burying his face in the soft flesh of her neck, he breathed in her scent as he gently skimmed his nose along the tender flesh from the nape of her neck to her ear. "My Elizabeth," he whispered tenderly, his hot breath sending delicious shivers trembling though her body.

Elizabeth's mind was a fog of sensations. Her hands, clamped to her heaving chest, prevented her open dress from falling to the floor. Her heart pounded away within her chest like never before at his words. She rejoiced in them and despaired of them in equal measure.

In her muddled state, she could barely comprehend _why_ she should object to those words being uttered to her, when all she wanted was to surrender herself to them, to become _his_ Elizabeth. Yet something nagged at her...

Darcy's arm wrapped around her waist, bringing her back flush against him. His other hand trailed lightly over the exposed skin of her shoulder.

Elizabeth's struggle for composure was akin to wading through quick sand; the onslaught of Darcy's presence wrecked havoc on her person. She should not be allowing this. However much her body screamed in protest, she _must_ put an end to his liberties.

"Darcy," her voice shook as she spoke. "Please..."

"Please what, my love?" He began to place hot kisses on her neck.

"Stop." She nearly sobbed, barely able to speak the words. "Please stop."

He stopped. Elizabeth was ashamed of the small whimper of dismay that escaped her as Darcy withdrew. The loss of pleasure she experienced as his lips left her flesh was so complete that it was almost painful.

"Might I ask why?" he asked. His tone was one of cool indifference but Elizabeth could feel a fine tremor in the long fingers that gripped her shoulders.

The question echoed in her brain, ricocheting around unanswered. She struggled to form a reply; every time she thought she had it, it trickled away like water through her fingers.

An image of kind, gentle blue eyes flashed into her head – eyes before tears and sorrow marred their perfect beauty.

"Jane."

Elizabeth felt herself being turned around in the circle of Darcy's strong arms until they stood face-to-face. The difference in their heights meant that she found herself staring at his strong jaw – which was now set in irritation.

"Did I not explain about Bingley and Miss Bennett?" he asked irritably.

"Explained _what_ ,pray tell?" Her sharp tongue awoke from its temporary apathy. "That her family - _my_ family - was not dignified, wealthy, or suitable enough for a friend of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, Lord of Pemberley?"

Darcy huffed in exasperation, only _just_ managing not to roll his eyes. "Are we back to arguing, Elizabeth? I thought we were finally communicating honestly with one another."

"And that it precisely what I am doing." Elizabeth steeled her backbone. "Your letter opened my eyes to many things - Mr Wickham's character most especially." Her voice faltered slightly at the sound of his name and her cheeks stained with pink. She was embarrassed by how easily she had been duped.

Darcy's eyes hardened at the mention of Wickham. His hands dropped from her shoulders.

He look upon her in silence for several agonising seconds. "Did he mean so much to you?" he finally asked, his voice catching slightly as he forced the words from his lips.

Elizabeth did not understand. Unable to comprehend exactly what he alluded to, her head tilted in a wordless question.

"Wickham," Darcy clarified. "Did you feel so strongly for him that my touch is now abhorrent to you?"

Elizabeth could not help but laugh. She turned an arch smile on Darcy's grim visage.

"I recall you saying once, during a heated discussion at Netherfield, that my greatest failing was to wilfully misunderstand people." She watched his lips twitch at the memory. "I would say we have a similar failing, Mr Darcy."

"You did not care for him?" he questioned further.

"I believed his story. Without question," she admitted, hanging her head in disgrace. "I felt a great deal of sympathy for his situation, condemning you as a villain without a second thought."

Elizabeth loathed to see the hurt in his eyes as she peered up at him. "I admired what I thought to be his honest and open nature, but I did not harbour any lasting tender feeling for him"

Jealously, anger, and joy warred upon Darcy's features.

"Then why?" he asked finally, unable to reconcile his conflicting emotions.

"Jane," she answered simply. "Your letter answered many of my objections - but not all to my satisfaction." She shifted slightly in his arms, taking the weight off her injured foot.

Darcy noticed her discomfort. "I have said this several times now, Miss Bennet, and we do not appear to have yet accomplished our task."

He glance down at her water soaked dress. "Talk as I help you to remove these wet clothes."

Elizabeth nodded her consent as Darcy's fingers looped into the sleeves of her dress, pushing them down gently. She relinquished her grip allowing him to ease the dress off.

"I concede that I was utterly taken in by Mr Wickham and allowed my partiality to blind me in several important matters. I do not believe, however, that I exaggerated your contemptuous attitude to those you consider your inferior and I do not agree with the high handed way in which you separated Mr Bingley and my sister."

Darcy had kept his eyes upon her face throughout her speech. She was keenly aware of her dress as it pooled around her feet in a swath of fabric, as she stood before him in only her - nearly transparent - undergarments.

Darcy supported Elizabeth's weight with one arm while reaching with the other for her blanket which he wrapped securely around her shoulders.

"Do you require assistance removing your petticoat?" he asked, his eyes never leaving her face.

"No," she replied too quickly, flushing with embarrassment. "But if would be so kind as to hold me up I will finish the task."

Her hands worked clumsily beneath the blanket to free herself from her garments. Darcy continued to support her, his eyes boring holes into her very soul. His gaze never once left her flushed face.

"I am aware," Darcy said, his Adam's Apple bobbing convulsively in his throat, "That my behaviour does not always endear me to those around me. I have been afflicted with shyness for as long as I can remember and, upon my mother and father's untimely deaths, I found myself the of master of Pemberley, a role I regrettably was most shamefully inadequately prepared for." Darcy paused, distracted, as Elizabeth shifted within his grasp, her heavy petticoats falling to the floor at their feet.

She clung desperately to the blanket around her as Darcy bent to lift her off her feet. Gently, he placed her back in the chair. A second blanket was unfolded and tucked snugly around her form. Looking down on her, Darcy hesitated a moment before stooping to place a tender kiss upon her forehead.

"Their deaths left me without anyone to moderate my behaviour. I was master to a grand estate, guardian to my young sister, and the new attraction to every scheming mama and desperate husband hunter in the Ton."

He sighed at the memory. "My shyness and reserved nature made me inept at dealing with the attention. I found myself becoming severe and aloof in an attempt to discourage their grasping behaviour. Within a quarter hour of my entering a room, the phrase "ten thousand a year" must have been muttered at least a dozen times within my hearing. I admit it made me bitter and judgemental, turning me away from the good principals my parents had installed within me as a child."

Elizabeth was lost in contemplation at his words. Having so little of it herself, she had never imagined before how wealth might negatively effect ones life.

Yes, she could understand his discomfort at being judged on wealth alone. Having witnessed the flurry of scheming mamas - including her own - when he first entered their small neighbourhood, she loathed to picture the reaction he would inspire in London society.

"I became accustomed to getting my own way - and found that it agreed with me." He smiled slyly at her. "Strangely, however, it was _your_ mutiny against agreeing instantly with me, as so many others do, that drew me to you."

He placed a hand tenderly on her knee and squeezed it affectionately.

"You wit, your compassion, your passion - and your fine eyes... A combination of enticements I defy any sane man to resist." he locked eye's with her, pleading his sincerity in every look.

"You turned me inside out," he confessed. "I fought against it for as long as I could, at first barely aware what I was fighting against, so unaccustomed was I to any feelings of love or admiration." He shook his head in wry contemplation. "Once I had accepted that I felt something for you, I fought to maintain my distance so I could do what society and the Ton expect of me: to marry a lady of name and fortune - not the daughter of a country squire."

Elizabeth recoiled slightly at his words but admitted the truth in them. She was _not_ a suitable candidate for the role of Mrs. Darcy. She knew little of London and its complicated social rules and obligations but, having the benefit of reading much of her father's library, she was aware that any wife he took would be expected to be a leading figure in that society. She would be most unequal to the task.

Her whit might endear her to her country neighbours but, judging by Miss Bingley and Lady Catherine's behaviour, it would not be so endearing the Ton. And, if the truth be told, she could not imagine living amongst an abundance of such critical petty mindedness with any amount of happiness.

"I found, however, any struggle to be a vain attempt of deception. My heart had tied itself to you," his voice broke into her musing. "Once I had accepted this, all my other objections fell away one by one."

"My parents, before their deaths, were deeply in love - which was all the more remarkable considering they were virtual strangers when they wed. As a boy I dreamed about having a marriage such as theirs, but as I grew older without their excellent example before me I resigned myself to having one of those cold marriages of convenience that are so common amongst the Ton. Falling in love love with you reminded me of what I had wished for as a young boy - and what I had been willing to sacrifice as a grown man."

"And, Elizabeth," his fingers brushed her chin, tilting her face up so she had to look into his eyes. "I _do_ love you. Despite my abhorrent proposal last night, I am a man hopelessly, violently, and irreconcilably in love with you."

He smiled down at her. "So if, when we leave this place, you still feel the same as you did last night, I will understand. But I wanted you to understand that my feelings for you are now and will ever more be unchanged."

Elizabeth felt the sting of tears as she looked at the earnest man in front of her. Never had she imagined his feelings to be so strong. His impassioned speech, so heartfelt and raw, moved her beyond words.

She lent into his touch and he reacted instantly, his warm hand cradling her face. A single tear broke free, burning a hot trail down her cheek.

"Elizabeth," he breathed; longing and desire clung to every syllable.

Then Darcy was on his knees before her, his other hand capturing her face. He pulled her towards him. His lips just inches away, he hesitated.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, begging permission to close the distance between them. She answered him with her eyes, the desire there telling him everything he needed to know.

Elated, he closed the gap. He pulled her to him, cradling her small frame against his larger one. Her soft lips were tentative but Darcy could also taste the raw passion bubbling beneath her inexperience. Within seconds she began to respond, following his lead.

Darcy savoured her – the taste of her, the feel of her - only pulling away when his breath was almost spent. Even then he could not stop kissing her, he could not stop kissing her. He scattered light butterfly kisses along her jaw, savouring her soft skin and contented sighs.

He could not stay long away from her mouth. Soon he again claimed her mouth hungrily. This time Elizabeth did not hesitate; her mouth moved ravenously beneath his own. When his tongue touched her bottom lip, begging for admittance, she did not hesitate. Her lips parted and he devoured her mouth.

"DAAAAAARRRCCCCYYYYY!"

An angry voice growled his name, cooling his ardour faster than a bucket of cold water. Elizabeth too froze, a small, frightened gasp escaping her swollen lips. Together they turned to face a very angry Lady Catherine who stood in the cabin's open doorway.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Hi guy's sorry about the delay, thanks for your messages and those people checking to see if i'm continuing with the story, just so you all know yes I will finish it as I hate half done story's that I find on here...however no promises as to how long it'll take me to get done...sorry. That said, hope you guys enjoy and I will try to update as soon as I can.**

**Thanks wand for the editing job, fab as always.**

**Please review if you can, thanks.**

**Stormy Pride**

**Chapter 5: Catherine's treachery**

"Darcy!" Lady Catherine's imperious voice rang out, seemingly all the louder in their confined space. "I demand to know what you are doing here! And unhand Miss Bennett at once."

Darcy reluctantly loosened his grasp on Elizabeth. But, unable to break the contact completely, claimed her small hand with his own. Lady Catherine's sharp eyes spotted the gesture at once and her mouth tightened unpleasantly with anger.

Elizabeth was unequal to facing the situation. She buried her head in her free hand, sobs of embarrassment racking her body.

"Aunt," Darcy tried to forced his voice to into a soothing tone - a difficult task as his body still flamed from Elizabeth's passionate kisses. "What brings you out in this storm?"

"What brings me out in this storm?! That is _hardly_ the most pressing question, considering that harlot still sits there half dressed and as brazen as you please."

"I will not allow you to speak that way about Elizabeth," Darcy warned. He rose from his seat and took a step towards his aunt without releasing Elizabeth's hand.

"How dare you speak thus to me!" Lady Catherine fumed. "I am one of your closest relation and when you finally marry my Anne I will be your mother, so I will speak of that cheap baggage as I please."

"I warn you, Aunt Catherine" Darcy bit out, barely concealing his seething anger "do not refer to Miss Bennet again in that derogatory manner"

Lady Catherine contemplated him for a few moments, contemplating her next step. She could not push him too hard, despite the fact the boy deserved to be put over her knee and given a good thrashing. He has his fathers wilful streak, which made him tempestuous and prone to ridiculous gallantry, if she wasn't careful she would push him further into the arms of that disgraceful hussy instead of pulling him to safety.

"We became concerned for your safety when you didn't return to break your fast" she began in a much more even tone "when the weather became worse we feared for the worst, then then Collins dared the rain to come looking for Miss Bennet as she too had not returned from her walk I immediately summoned every available servant to set forth and find you."

Darcy looked back at her, unabashed, still holding tightly to Miss Bennet's hand. She still sobbed silently into her hand. Her form barely covered by the threadbare blankets around her.

Spotting a weakness to exploit, Lady Catherine turned back to the boy, silently contemplating a way to get Miss Bennet alone. She eyed him shrewdly as she formed her plan.

"Darcy? Would you be so kind as to step outside?" She noticed his grip on Miss Bennet hand tightened, his mouth already forming the words of refusal. "Anne is waiting in the carriage for me. She was ever so concerned for you and Miss Bennet," Catherine added as an afterthought. "She would be so relieved to know that you are returned to us unharmed."

"Surely you did not drag poor Anne out in this weather simply to look for me!" His tone was full of annoyance but he hastened to comply.

"Of course Anne accompanied me. She cares for you so dearly that it would have been a punishment to make her stay at home when your life was at risk." Her attempts at pleasantry folded under his insolence and her anger slipped out in her reply.

"My life was never at risk." He said, rolling his eyes in exasperation. "However this folly may very well have endangered the fragile health of your daughter."

Darcy was gone but a moment. Lady Catherine did not even have the opportunity to put her plan in motion before he came rushing back in, his face full of concern.

"Anne _must_ be returned to Rosings at once," he barked. "She is nearly blue with cold and her cough is much worse that it has been in some time."

"You return with Anne back to Rosings. I will wait here with Miss Bennet until another carriage can be sent," Lady Catherine commanded in a voice that brooked no refusal.

"I cannot leave Elizabeth." Darcy insisted. "She is injured."

His eyes sought Elizabeth. She was crumpled in upon herself, her slender arms wrapped around her waist. He longed to take her in his arms, to comfort and sooth her, and - above all - to claim her mouth once more as his own.

"Then surely she requires a doctor - as does my darling Anne. If you would be so kind as to accompany her back to Rosings you will be able to summon a doctor for both. I will remain here to care for Miss Bennet. You can see, can you not, that it is improper for you to remain here any longer with an unchaperoned lady who is such a state of undress. If we have any hope of stemming the tide of gossip we must contain the chance of discovery now."

"We have already been discovered, aunt, as you are well aware since you yourself discovered us."

"Don't be clever, young man," she snapped. "At this point only we three know of this. No one else need be involved."

Darcy was immobile. "I intend to marry Miss Bennet," he told declared.

"The moment I am assured of her health, I will make haste to Longbourn where I will beg her father for the honour of her hand."

Elizabeth's sobs ceased. Though tears still clung to her eyelashes, there was something akin to hope in her eyes.

Catherine swallowed the bile rising in her throat. The boy truly was a fool in love, just like his idiotic father.

Once upon a time, Catherine had been the intended match for the handsome Mr. Darcy senior. Everyone had been eagerly anticipated a marriage proposal – instead, he had fallen for her younger sister's laughing charm. Catherine remembered the way he had mooned over her sister like a calf while she, herself, had instead been forced to accept the hand of Sir Lewis, a philandering, elderly noble. Pemberley had been lost to a lesser woman.

She would not allow history to repeat itself.

"This how you would wish to begin married life?" She struggled to reign in her temper. "Under the haze of scandal? Your _wife,_" she spat the word, "Will never be accepted in polite society. And what of Georgiana? Would you have her suffer? If we are prudent we can salvage this situation. We will say that I happened upon Miss Bennet during my search for you, whilst you were drawn to the sound of the carriage and emerged from you hiding spot in the forest. Once we establish our story no one will dare question it. You will save your lady's reputation as well as your own."

She watched Darcy's face as he contemplated her words. Though he seemed reluctant, he eventually agreed.

"Very well," he said. "I will return with Anne and call a doctor post haste, I will also arrange for a carriage to collect you immediately."

He crossed the room to Elizabeth. Lowering his voice, he said, "As much as I want to stay here with you, my love, Lady Catherine speaks the truth. I will await your arrival at Rosings and, once the doctor has seen you, we will continue our fascinating discussion."

Darcy gently took her red, tear soaked face tenderly between his hands as he placed a soft kiss upon her forehead. Only then – and reluctantly – did he head towards the door.

Upon hearing the carriage depart, Lady Catherine descended upon Elizabeth.

Catherine approached Elizabeth slowly, knowing that she had to play this carefully. The boy would be obstinate – that was just his nature - and this prickly country miss would not be much better. Ironic that they would suit each other so well in that regard. Miss Bennet would certainly be an even match for him in bull headed tenacity but there was no way that Lady Catherine would allow the match. Darcy was for her Anne only.

"Never before have I been so shocked," she said, shaking her head.

Elizabeth's hands tightened on the blanket but she said nothing.

Catherine smiled to herself; this was too easy. "My nephew has used you extremely ill," she said in a kinder tone. Elizabeth looked up, surprise stamped on her face.

"Just like his uncle and wayward father..." She sighed sadly for effect. "Using this old hut to satisfy his carnal lusts and desires."

Elizabeth's eyes widened dramatically at this. "His uncle, my late husband, did not believe I knew of his deceit, of how he liked to bring his cheap women here to use and defile them. But I always knew. For the sake of my family I simply chose to turn a blind eye to his indiscretions. My poor departed sister, Lady Anne, suffered a similar fate by Darcy's father – who, I believe, had a similar cottage built within the grounds of Pemberley. I fear Darcy, despite my best attempts to shelter him from their worst habits, has followed in their footsteps."

The lie tasted well in her mouth. As if that simpering fool, Sir Lewis, could disobey her! He would return home with his tail firmly between his legs from spending his day hiding here, reading his stupid books, and she had made it clear to him on many occasions that she knew precisely what he was about.

"I would have expected better of Darcy. To be dallying with a gentleman's daughter! I am sorry for us both. He has bought shame on his family - just as your compliance in this shameful act has bought shame upon your own."

"No!" Elizabeth's voice broke with the force of her denial. "You are mistaken Lady Catherine. Nothing scandalous has taken place, I assure you!"

Catherine raised a sardonic eyebrow. Did this chit take her for a fool?

"Young people must have abandoned all forms of society and decorum if you can say with sincerity that a young unmarried woman can be found in a carnal act without bringing disgrace and dishonour upon her family."

Oh, how she relished cutting down her broken opponent! Lady Catherine had been sorely tempted to release her venom upon Miss Bennet at several times during the last month to teach her not to behave so forwardly with her betters.

"It was not as you have painted it, Lady Catherine," Elizabeth replied in a hollow voice.

"It matters not what occurred, girl, only what people will say. As well you know. We must hide the truth if either you or Darcy are to walk away with any shred of dignity."

"You wish us to marry then?"

Catherine almost choked. "Not at all! A forced marriage will only paper over the cracks of disgrace. It would never be forgotten that Pemberley's mistress and master were caught in the centre of a scandal - and I very much doubt Darcy _would_ marry you. He might choose to take pleasure in the lower circles but he will marry for duty."

"You are mistaken," Elizabeth replied fiercely, a hint of her former temper returning.

Catherine eyed her opponent carefully. Darcy was clearly bewitched by this scheming nobody. She had not thought Miss Bennet returned his feelings but no doubt his fortune overcame any objections she might have had.

Catherine tried to sound as sympathetic as possible. "Miss Bennet," she said, "You must understand that people in Darcy's circle behave in a very different manner as to what you must be accustomed to. Did he make an offer to you, child?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Yes," Elizabeth replied, straightening her back and meeting Lady Catherine's eye.

"I thought as much. He never intended to carry though with the wedding, my dear," she lied easily.

Patting Elizabeth's hand sympathetically, she added, "Once he had your consent, he would persuade you with kind words and grand gestures until you gave yourself to him."

Lady Catherine shook her head in mock indignation. "After he had ruined you, Darcy would have no need to go through with the marriage. He would have established you in a house in London as his mistress. He has done it before," she added for good measure.

Elizabeth could not have been more shocked if Lady Catherine had struck her; she recoiled, as if she could avoid the truth of the words.

"Why else would he bring you hear alone?" Catherine asked, pressing her advantage.

"It was raining heavily and I have injured my ankle," Elizabeth replied but her voice was less sure than it had been the moment before. "Darcy was being a gentleman."

"A _true_ gentleman would have seen you safely to shelter and then departed forthwith to retrieve assistance. Or he would have waited out the storm under the shelter by the door, rather than compromise you as Darcy has."

Catherine watched the impact of her words and was pleased at their effect. "If his intentions were true, he never would have laid hands upon you. Come now, Miss Bennet, I thought you a clever girl."

Elizabeth shook her head, trying to deny the ideas forming behind her wide brown eyes.

"Do you truly believe that proud, silent, _rich_ Fitzwilliam Darcy would take a nobody country girl to be his wife?"

"I..." Elizabeth faltered, suddenly uncertain.

"Perhaps I have grievously misjudged his character," she admitted. "He seemed so genuine..."

It was all Lady Catherine could do not to laugh aloud.

"What will become of you, Miss Bennet, if you return home to your family despoiled? Will they accept you back - or will you go live in seclusion, never to marry or enter into civilized society again?" she asked driving her message home.

"I am offering you an opportunity to save yourself from such a fate. Once the carriage arrives, you will return at once to the Collins' residence. The doctor will tend to you there and, once he is done with his exam, you will be loaded into my carriage once more and carried back to your family. We none of us will speak of what has occurred here today."

Elizabeth sat in silent contemplation. Catherine bit her tongue; it was difficult not to press further when she so clearly had the advantage. Instead, she watched her words slowly worm their way into Elizabeth's psyche.

"Yes," Elizabeth said, finding her resolve at last. "I will do as you ask. I will remain silent on today's events. I will tell my family I have returned early as I was concerned for my sister, Jane."

Catherine could not conceal her victorious smile. The sound of horses drew her attention to the door. Right on time, she thought.

Now to tackle the boy...

Lady Catherine was accosted the moment she descended from her carriage. With a shocking lack of decorum, Darcy ran toward her.

"Where is Elizabeth?" He peered around her into the depths of the empty carriage. "Where have you been? Why did not you return to the house immediately, as agreed?"

"She did not wish to return here with me," she replied. "And lower your tone, nephew, or else gossip will surely follow."

Catherine made her way into the great house slowly, showing Darcy that she, at least, could act with the dignity required of her by her station. Ignoring him completely, she made enquiries after Anne who, she was told, had taken to her bed. Poor girl, Catherine thought, she had never been strong.

"What do you _mean_ she did not wish to come here?" Darcy demanded.

"Just that. Miss Bennet practically begged me to take her to the Collins' residence. She seemed to feel you had tried to compromise her and that coming here would only exasperate the situation. I could not, in all good conscious, bring her once more within your power."

The look of hurt on his face demonstrated she had struck a nerve.

"I must go to her," he declared abruptly. He immediately mad for the door.

"No, Darcy," she said. "You will not. I will not allow it." Her voice was full of steel.

"You cannot stop me," he replied indignantly.

"You are correct. However, I would advise you to stop yourself. The lady does not want you, Darcy."

Catherine played upon his fears. Having watched their interplay with rapt attention this past month, she knew well where to aim her arrows. "Miss Bennet wanted nothing more than to be returned to her family post haste and has already taken her leave."

"She is gone?" Darcy asked, his voice echoing with despair.

"Yes, she is gone. She asked that we never speak of this again so she might carry on with her life."

An idea struck her. "Miss Bennet spoke of a gentleman she esteemed highly whom she did not to hear of today's misdeeds."

"Another man? Who?" he demanded. Jealously flared behind his eyes.

"I did not enquire. I cared only with preserving your reputation and once she had not only consented but _insisted_ on silence on this matter, I cared not one whit what she did." Lady Catherine watched Darcy sink down into one of the chairs by the fire.

At last, she had him. Now, whilst he was weak and broken, she would bind him to Anne and finally gain triumph over her sister.

Pemberley would be hers at long last!

**please review if you can. thanks**


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